FISHING THE PACIFIC 



holding my favorite gaff— one engraved "To Kip from Phil." 

 Good old Phil Swaffield, ex-president of the Catahna Tuna 

 Club, one of my closest California friends who passed away 

 some years ago had given it to me— back in 1 940. It had been 

 used to gaff my 85 3 -pound swordfish in Chile and my big 

 Nova Scotia tuna and was now to be put to good use 

 again. 



The marlin came up leading better and Tom Bates cracked 

 him on the inside with an underwater jab. The motors 

 were shut off, the block and tackle on the big gin pole 

 14 feet high on that side were lowered and the tail rope 

 rigged. The fish was losing blood that dyed the water so I 

 could not determine as yet where he was hooked. I stood 

 up in the chair, of course, keeping the leader attached to the 

 rod and reel and holding it as I helped the others adjust the 

 tail rope. We began to pull in on the gin pole and it was 

 tough work. One of the ropes almost fouled the top and 

 Tom Bates went up to clear it. It took all five of us to get 

 him up. The gin pole was 14 feet high and the fish was longer. 

 He was losing a great deal of blood as he hung there and we 

 tied up his mouth so that none of the stomach contents would 

 be lost. After heading the boat into the wind again we at- 

 tempted to get him aboard and it took our combined strength 

 to pull his head into the cockpit. The rest of him then slid 

 on in and we got him straightened away. The tip of his won- 

 derful tail, the largest I've ever seen, touched the engine box, 

 and his bill— very short for a big black marUn- was smack 

 up against the counter. He just fitted snugly in on one side 

 since these boats had been designed to handle two fish, a 

 thousand pounds each. 



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